Runner's Orgasms

Went to the bookstore to see if there were any unbelievable after-Thanksgiving sales. There wasn't anything for me, as it turned out, so i went home and bought Eihei Dōgen: Mystical Realist online — but while browsing in the Running section at the store, i did notice this chapter title in one book: "The Runner's High Is Like An Orgasm."

Hmmmmmm..... now that has to make one stop and think. Does this mean i'd have more luck in life if i replaced my photos on the online dating sites with new ones of me in my running shoes and tights? Or, conversely, does that explain why my short, fast tempo runs are great but i find it so difficult on those long, slow early morning weekend runs? I wonder if there really is a connection or if he was just trying to sell books????

Anyway,

DHS 19/100

The World Outside

DHS 18/100

Time For A Walk

Time for a walk
   in the world outside
      and a look at who I am
Originally I had no cares
   and I am seeking
      nothing special
Even for my guests
   I have nothing
      to offer
Except these white stones
   and this clear
      spring water

Musō Soseki
Sun At Midnight: Poems And Sermons

Originally, no cares. Then life, and, well.... there goes the "no cares." In the mountains, in a monastery, in retreat, it's easy to get back to that. Search for nothing special. Let the greatest presents you can offer guests be reality. But, occasionally make the time to take a walk. Outside. Back to this mundane world were the rest of us live. Can you stay on the path or do you get lost? Here's where exams are administered. Who are you now?

Who Cares?

[M]an's way to liberation and perfection lies through an increasing impersonality. It is his ancient and constant experience that the more he opens himself to the impersonal and infinite, to that which is pure and high and one and common in all things and beings, the impersonal and infinite in Nature, the impersonal and infinite in life, the impersonal and infinite in his own subjectivity, the less he is bound by his ego and by the circle of the finite, the more he feels a sense of largeness, peace, pure happiness. The pleasure, joy, satisfaction which the finite by itself can give, or the ego in its own right attain, is transitory, petty and insecure. To dwell entirely in the ego sense and its finite conceptions, powers, satisfactions is to find this world forever full of transience and suffering...

[T]he finite life is always troubled by a certain sense of vanity for this fundamental reason that the finite is not the whole or the highest truth of life; life is not entirely real until it opens into the sense of the infinite. ...

For the impersonal, the infinite, the One in which all the impermanent, mutable, multiple activity of the world finds above itself its base of permanence, security and peace, is the immobile Self. ... If we see this, we shall see that to raise one's consciousness and the poise of one's being out of limited personality into this infinite and impersonal Brahman is the first spiritual necessity. To see all beings in this one Self is the knowledge which raises the soul out of egoistic ignorance and its works and results; to live in it is to acquire peace and firm spiritual foundation.

Aurobindo
Essays On The Gita

It's hard to explain
These things called life, age, and death
Then again, who cares?

That's the question, isn't it? Who cares? Who? What? No door prize for anyone that says "I do." :-(


DHS 17/100



Road Kill 5
Neither fast nor slow
Just one foot then the other
But oi vey, my lungs!

DHS 16/100

DHS 16/100
Getting worse rather than better, i'm afraid....

No One Saw What I Did

I hadn't intended to write anything today, but i've been laying in bed reading a few poems in that wonderful anthology A Book Of Luminous Things and the below poem by Bronislaw Maj forced me to get out my computer and say something ... anything ... before the thoughts go away overnight.

A Leaf

A leaf, one of the last, parts from a maple branch:
it is spinning in the transparent air of October, falls
on a heap of others, stops, fades. No one
admired its entrancing struggle with the wind,
followed its flight, no one will distinguish it now
as it lies among other leaves, no one saw
what I did. I am
the only one.

One of the great things about poetry is that if 100 of us all sat down and read the same poem, all 100 of us could well walk away with a different interpretation of its meaning. Each of us would approach the reading from different perspectives; different ages, different social status, different life experiences, different genders, different educations, different attitudes towards the spiritual, different beliefs, different ideologies, different prejudices and biases, different mental and emotional states at the time of the reading, and on, and on. And all of this means each of us views the same poem through different lenses.

I'd bet that my read of this poem is completely different from what the author intended. In fact, after i read it, i actually blinked and reread it wondering if i was way off track. But, i just can't shake it.

First off, reread the poem, but as you do, read the words "no one" as if they had quotes around them. This "no one" isn't "nobody" or "no person," but me or you after having spent time meditating under the maple tree, after the mind has finally quieted down, after thoughts have finally stopped, after the ego has finally disappeared. By taking that inward step, "I" am no longer there, but "no one" is there, taking everything in. "No One," because all labels that could be used to place me in a category have disappeared. "No One," because there is nothing that you can pin on me to set me apart from anything else. I am not Some One any more, it is my original self sitting there. Observing.

One chilly October morning, a leaf, the last of countless leaves, finally drops to the ground, joining all the other leaves in a pile after floating slowly this way and that, circling lazily to the right for a while and then just as lazily to the left before settling onto the heap.

As this is happening, someone sits quietly in meditation beneath the tree; aware of all that is happening, but not focused on any of it. In the outside world there are countless differences. It is October, it is chilly, there are multiple leaves, with most on the ground but one left on the tree. In the outside world, there is discrimination, there is me and you, there is me and a tree, me and a leaf, a leaf on the tree and a leaf on the ground. There is movement, there is up on the tree and down on the ground. There is struggle and there is final peace and acceptance. There is a beginning and an end.

In the inner world, though, there is none of that. There is just "this," and that includes everything and nothing, it includes all of space and all of time, or, more accurately, neither space nor time exist apart from everything else. The leaf is space, the tree is space, the falling is time, the leaf drifting in the wind is space and time manifesting as a falling leaf.

And "no one" is also included, sitting under the tree as the leaf drifts down in front of his seat. No one admires the beauty of the experience, no one admires the gracefulness of the process, no one sees all of the leaves lying under the tree. No thoughts were required or wanted. There was no observer or observed, just an experience.

But, without intellectualizing it, No One did notice one thing more important even than the falling leaf. No One saw what "I" did during this period: "I" had gone away, "I" had disappeared, "I" had stepped out of the way leaving No One to stand alone, uncovered, unhindered, unencumbered.

"I" realized that there was no separation between it and the rest of the universe. There is just existence. There is just Being. "I am the only one." Of course. If there is only One, how could I not be the only one? And No One smiled when he saw the lesson learned.

So, with all that under your belt, reread the poem from that perspective. It's incredibly beautiful.


Boy am i glad i decided to read a few poems tonight. That was a great one!

DHS 15/100

DHS 15/100



A quiet Thanksgiving holiday today. I hope everyone took a few minutes today to think about what they are thankful for in their lives, and maybe to ask themselves, What is the one thing that is the most important to you? Can you narrow it down?

The Henro Family

The henro trail is like a two sided coin — there's the internal aspect that i seem to write about often, maybe too often, and there's the external aspect, which doesn't get enough exposure here i'm afraid. In an attempt to remedy that this is about that outer aspect of walking the henro trail.

Someone once sent me an email asking if i would consider doing the henro together and doing it as a very strict religious pilgrimage. To make a long story short, i declined. Yes, i can hear many of you shouting, "What? After all this crap you've been writing about the Heart Sutra and Kūkai and oneness with life, and all that other stuff? I can't believe i'm reading this."

But, it's true, i did decline. While all of that is important to me, there is more to the walk than just that. For me there are very definitely two sides to this walk; an objective side and a subjective side. Yesterday's post called "Pilgrimage" was a typical example of how i see the subjective side. The henro trail is like an active retreat where you have the chance to look inside, deeply inside, yourself and try to understand who and what you are, to try and understand what it means to be alive, to try and understand what it takes to live, not just a good life, but just to Live. What does it mean to be "alive?" It's a gift, so what duties and responsibilities came along with your accepting that gift?

The other side of the trail is the objective side, the side that deals with all the other people you meet and all the experiences you have. And this is a big part of the pilgrimage for me. The people of Shikoku are some of the most wonderful people in the world — at least when it comes to their interactions with henro. Once they know you are a henro, you are welcomed unquestioningly and wholeheartedly. There is little most people wouldn't do for a henro. I believe there is nothing they wouldn't do for a henro in need. Nothing.

One of the daily pleasures of the henro experience is simply meeting and talking to all of these people. Do they ask stupid questions sometimes? Sure. Do they stare and make me feel like an oddity sometimes? Sure. Do they make it obvious that i'm a foreigner sometimes? Sure. Do they ever make me feel unwelcome? NO. Absolutely not. Never.

During these encounters the conversations can be short and superficial or long and spiritual. And, for the most part, the path it follows depends solely on your attitude and openness. While talking they will fete you with drinks and food, they will repair your backpack, they will give you a back or foot massage, ... they will do almost anything. The only thing they ask in return is that you answer a few questions, frequently pointed questions, like who are you, where are you from, how old are you, how tall are you, how much do you weigh, are you married (and then why not, in my case), what's your religion, why are you walking the henro trail, do you think Japanese women/men are good looking, do you like Japanese food, how many brothers and sisters do you have, and on, and on, and on...

Then there's the people you meet at the lodging each night. A handful of people, all tired from a long day of walking, all freshly bathed and beginning to relax, all gathered around a table covered with delicious looking and smelling food, many with a cold beer in front of them, all being pampered by the Okami-san (owner, and usually a woman), all with a smile on their face and a laugh on the tip of their tongue, and all with experiences that they enjoy sharing, no, that they look forward to sharing.

It's like sharing war stories: stories about blisters, sore shoulders, hard climbs up steep trails, about walking in the rain, an interesting goof-ball that stops all passing henro in the previous town, the great service at one particular minshuku, the amazingly delicious food at another minshuku. Stories about every aspect of the henro trail that each and every one of us experience. And if someone isn't willingly offering their share of stories the others will poke and prod in order to draw them out of you.

The stories are told and retold night after night over glasses of cold beer and cups of hot tea. If you happen to be staying the night with another henro you've met before, you pretend that you haven't heard their stories before and laugh right along with the rest of the other henro as if it was the first time you have heard it.

Once you become a henro, you join the Henro Family, whether you want to or not. Your acceptance is immediate and complete as soon as others know you are walking the henro trail. And if you open yourself to the rest of your new family, your henro will be immensely more pleasurable and memorable.


DHS 14/100